


Deluge

by Mags



Series: Avengersbent [3]
Category: Homestuck, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Trolls AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:53:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mags/pseuds/Mags
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I really hate you, you know," Nataya says.</p>
<p>Your name is Brucel Banner and you might just hate her back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deluge

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this one is so short! I have another few short ones and then some medium-sized ones.

She seeks you out after everything’s over.

You don’t even notice her, as engrossed as you are in your work, until she pokes you, hard, in the back.

“Brucel.”

“What do you want, Romnov?” You’re definitely exasperated, and it sets her on edge. (Perhaps you shouldn’t have scared her planetside, before everything.) But you’re determined to be civil, with her especially.

She brings you close to snapping far too often.

“You know, I really hate you,” she says, and well you didn’t see _that_ coming.

“What?”

“I hate that you gave yourself something I could never have,” Nataya says slowly, like she’s working it out for herself. “I hate that you try to hide it, that you act so meek and unassuming. I hate that you could do almost anything with it--you could fight the empire, shape the empire, _fuck_ the empire for all the say it has--and instead you hide in a rustblood colony and treat maroons stupid enough to get the plague.

“I hate that you could do even better than me and you you don’t even try. I hate that you couch it all in stupid language. I hate that nothing that’s gotten me as far as it has can do _anything_ to ‘the other guy.’” She’s on a roll, sarcasm and anger flowing and it _floors_ you. (You’re not sure whether you like it or not, not yet.)

“And you know what I hate the most, Brucel? I hate that _I can’t have you_.”

The last is almost a sob as she buries her face in your chest, fists hitting your side in weak punches.

You make a little confused noise and she mutters, “don’ want your pity.”

That’s the last straw. Hate crawls up out of your collapsing and expanding vascular system, caliginous and reckless and long-starved and overpowering.

“You know what?” your mouth is saying, before your think pan can get in control. “Fuck you, Nataya. Fuck you for assuming I would _ever_ pity you.”

She looks at you now, pout turning into a scowl on a teal-tinted face. “Well _you_ know _what_? Fuck _you_ for assuming you couldn’t have a kismesis. You’re just not _trying_.”

“Not _trying_? I’d like to see _you_ try.”

She smiles, predatory, like she’s just gotten exactly what she wants, and _ooh_ , that really bothers you. She nips you on the nose, just enough to draw blood, and pulls you by the lapels into a deliciously torrid kiss.

Teeth may or may not have been involved.


End file.
